


Safe House

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cap3 Speculation, Captain America: Civil War Speculation, Captain America: Civil War Trailer, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Fuck," he heard Bucky exhale a moment later, then felt Bucky's hands trailing up along his spine, slow, methodical, and achingly gentle. "You're really here."</i>
</p><p>  <i>Steve let out a sobbing laugh and pressed a water-logged kiss to Bucky's shoulder. "That's my line," he said, trailing his lips along the angry, scarred tissue where metal met flesh. Now that he had permission, he couldn't stop kissing or touching or shifting to bring them closer. Bucky's heartbeat was a comforting counterpart to his own, their breaths syncing together the way they always used to.</i></p><p>
  <i>Together, against every odd in the universe.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magicandmalice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicandmalice/gifts).



> Written for the [StuckyThorki]() Christmas Fic Exchange, for MagicAndMalice, who requested post-TWS Bucky & Steve. Vague spoilers and speculation for the Cap3 trailer, but nothing specific.

The place Bucky led them to wasn't much to look at from the outside – a boarded up warehouse in a rundown area of town, rife with broken windows, scraggly weeds and concrete debris littering the walkway, and with a thick layer of dust and God knew what else covering every square inch of surface. But it was out of the way, just at the end of a dark, trash-infested alleyway, and off any Hydra or SHIELD maps. And Bucky claimed it was safe. 

And Bucky's word had always been good enough for Steve. 

"How'd you secure this site?" Steve said, looking around as he nimbly avoided the rusted i-beams and broken furniture littering the floor of the main warehouse. There were far too many points of ingress, far too many ways anyone could come at them while they were low on ammo and weapons and without backup. He still felt naked without his shield. Hopefully Scott and Clint would be successful in stealing it back from Ross and the lapdogs he called soldiers.

Steve just hoped Tony didn't have hold of it somewhere. That would...complicate things. Even more than they already were.

Not that it mattered. No matter how complicated things got, Steve was never going to regret choosing Bucky. He'd do it all over again, every time, without even needing to think about it. Which was something far too few people these days - even those he considered friends - understood, Tony included.

Bucky just raised an eyebrow like he couldn't believe the question (which, point taken) and replied: "How do you think? It's not like I was taking up knitting the last two years." He palmed the security scanner that led to the basement. When Steve lifted his own brow in question, Bucky shrugged. "Had it recoded a year ago to only my prints. C'mon."

The metal door slid shut behind them as they took the dank, pitch-black staircase to the bottom. Bucky led them through another door – also coded – and Steve glanced around in surprise at how _clean_ everything looked, especially compared to upstairs. There was a small kitchen area off to one side with a hot plate and one of those half-refrigerators, every inch of it spotless and gleaming. A double-wide bed was tucked into another corner, the sheets pulled military tight around the mattress. Guns of all sizes hung on hooks along the wall of the living area in neat rows, with knives and grenades lined up on a table, plus a few other weapons Steve couldn't identify, but he had no doubt they'd be useful in a fight. Whenever they left, they'd at least be well-armed.

"Shower's through that door," Bucky pointed, then sat heavily on the edge of the bed to work at the lacing of his boots. The frame didn't even shift. Reinforced then, Steve thought. And, taking a chance, he gingerly sat down next to Bucky. No creaking or cracking. So far, so good.

"You been staying here a lot?" Steve asked, trying to fill the silence. He was grimy as fuck and so hungry it was a physical ache, and all he wanted in the world was to curl up on the bed with Bucky and take a year-long nap. But this wasn't his show, and they didn't have that kind of time. And right now, his only concern – the _only_ thing that mattered – was keeping Bucky safe, and keeping him free.

"Off and on." Bucky shrugged and, shoes finally off, shifted to partially face Steve. "You getting undressed or what?"

"Uh." Steve glanced down at his grease and blood streaked hoodie and the equally filthy t-shirt underneath, then helplessly up at Bucky. Suddenly, making a decision about anything, even something so simple, seemed like an impossible task. All of the adrenaline and focus that had carried him the past few hectic hours abruptly vanished, taking with it his ability to think. He felt like a discarded marionette: crumpled, lifeless, _useless_. "Am I?"

"Yeah, man, you need a shower worse than I do, I think." Bucky smiled – more a slight curve of his lips than the artless grins that Steve remembered so vividly (but still so achingly, beautifully familiar) – and tugged at the zipper of Steve's hoodie. "But in the interest of expediency, we're sharing, so get a move on."

Sharing. Steve fought to keep from shivering when Bucky's fingers brushed against his stomach, and obediently lifted his arms so Bucky could peel him out of both articles of clothing. "You sure you're...?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, are you –?"

"You're not getting squeamish on me now, are you, Rogers?" Bucky asked, and stood to shrug out of his own jacket and henley. He paused with his finger on the button of his jeans, cocked his head, still, watchful. But under it, Steve saw the question, the vulnerability. "I mean, if you're not comfortable with –"

"Sharing's fine," Steve hastened to say, and stood himself. He pointedly did not look anywhere below Bucky's neck. He wasn't sure he could trust himself if he saw all of the scars Hydra had branded into Bucky's skin. Wasn't sure if he'd break down either in anger or despair, and he was already riding a fine edge between rage and exhaustion. His fingers were shaking enough as it was; he could barely work the laces of his boots. They quickly undressed in silence, and Steve followed Bucky – gaze firmly fixed on a spot between Bucky's shoulder blades – into the bathroom.

The shower was another surprise. Sleek and modern, with more than enough room for two men built like Bucky and Steve to fit in comfortably. The second Steve stepped under the spray – the water scalding hot and perfect – he reached for Bucky, pulling him close. Bucky came willingly, wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, and Steve full-body shuddered into the contact. Finally allowed himself to believe this was really happening.

" _Fuck_ ," he heard Bucky exhale a moment later, then felt Bucky's hands trailing up along his spine, slow, methodical, and achingly gentle. "You're really here."

Steve let out a sobbing laugh and pressed a water-logged kiss to Bucky's shoulder. "That's my line," he said, trailing his lips along the angry, scarred tissue where metal met flesh. Now that he had permission, he couldn't _stop_ kissing or touching or shifting to bring them closer. Bucky's heartbeat was a comforting counterpart to his own, their breaths syncing together the way they always used to. 

_Together_ , against every odd in the universe.

"Sorry...sorry, I'm sorry," Bucky murmured – broken, desperate – and clutched him tighter, fingers digging bruises that faded as soon as they appeared. Steve wished, violently, that he _could_ still get marked up as easily as he used to. But he'd make do, and carry the marks with him underneath his skin the way he always did.

He half-pushed Bucky under the water, smoothed the wet tangle of Bucky's hair back from his face, and breathed into the kiss. "I'm here," he murmured, rubbing their lips together, flicked his tongue out to meet Bucky's, both of them tasting of gunmetal and copper. Bucky tasted like Austria and Italy, and felt like the only parts of Brooklyn that mattered. "I'm real...you're real."

"I'm real, you're real – _fuck_. You're really real," Bucky repeated, then shoved Steve against the tiles, slotted their mouths together tight and hot. They were touching at every point of contact they could – chests and groins and thighs all sliding together, slippery and slick – but it still didn't feel like enough. Steve needed to be closer, needed more, needed Bucky... _needed_. It spilled over, from his fingers to his toes, encompassed everything he was, or would ever be.

"I'm here, I got you, I'm here, we're here..." They took turns reassuring each other, kiss melting into kiss, clutching at each other with frantic, greedy hands, until gradually, gradually, the water turned lukewarm, and they just leaned into each other, trading breaths and sighs and indistinct murmurs. Together, _together_ , echoing between them in a soul-deep refrain.

"We should probably get cleaned up before the hot water runs out," Bucky said, but didn't make a move to disentangle himself from Steve. Started mouthing at Steve's jaw, lips catching on the stubble, whispering words too low for even Steve to make out. Not that he needed to.

"Yeah, probably," Steve answered, with another soft kiss.

He also didn't move.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Stephrc79](stephrc79.tumblr.com) for the beta!!!!
> 
> You can now find me on [Tumblr](brendaonao3.tumblr.com). :)


End file.
